Live from the Opposition Compound
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| Mulba Morlu of the CDC addresses supporters. |
There are outrageous tales of killings on the beach, the corpses taken away in helicopters, and of a woman who sold cold drinks who was shot and her legs broken so that she could be stuffed into her own cooler. These stories are feeding the crowds who continue to assemble at the opposition headquarters, waiting for direction.
The first stop of the day: George Weah's house on 9th Street in Sinkor. Well, one of his houses -- it appears no one resides there anymore. Someone can be seen from an open window in the second floor. But the place seems eerily empty.
A sign at the former international footballer's says: "Please be informed that no one is allow to play or practice football here. Thanks."
Indeed, the pitch--like the rest of the property--looks long abandoned. We had come to look for coffins. Glenna Gordon, a young, energetic photographer from the States, had heard that people were building coffins last night at Weah's Sinkor home. By the time we arrive this morning, there's no evidence of coffins, so we proceed to the opposition Congress for Democratic Change headquarters.
Leaflets distributed Friday and loudspeakers from CDC vehicles urged all CDC-ion to come to party headquarters today. There are several hundred people here, mostly boys and young men. There is no sign of the party's presidential candidate Winston Tubman or the party's real draw, Weah. There is also no sign of the United Nations, though we are told they could arrive on the scene "in an instant" if there's any indication last week's clash could be repeated.
Helicopters circle overhead. The sun is scorching--in the middle of the election, dry season seems to have returned--and people are drinking and smoking marijuana. There's little food and water and tensions are running high. A group of people surround Mulba Morlu, a member of the CDC's executive committee.
"Ellen is a monster! She does not want you!" he tells the crowd.
A sign at the former international footballer's says: "Please be informed that no one is allow to play or practice football here. Thanks."
Indeed, the pitch--like the rest of the property--looks long abandoned. We had come to look for coffins. Glenna Gordon, a young, energetic photographer from the States, had heard that people were building coffins last night at Weah's Sinkor home. By the time we arrive this morning, there's no evidence of coffins, so we proceed to the opposition Congress for Democratic Change headquarters.
Leaflets distributed Friday and loudspeakers from CDC vehicles urged all CDC-ion to come to party headquarters today. There are several hundred people here, mostly boys and young men. There is no sign of the party's presidential candidate Winston Tubman or the party's real draw, Weah. There is also no sign of the United Nations, though we are told they could arrive on the scene "in an instant" if there's any indication last week's clash could be repeated.
Helicopters circle overhead. The sun is scorching--in the middle of the election, dry season seems to have returned--and people are drinking and smoking marijuana. There's little food and water and tensions are running high. A group of people surround Mulba Morlu, a member of the CDC's executive committee.
"Ellen is a monster! She does not want you!" he tells the crowd.
"Amana!" one of the boys yells. "Awey!" the people respond.
"This is a partisan police force; they will not protect you. They are all murderers! They brought 110 mercenaries from Cote d'Ivoire. Let them come here and kill us! Kill the dead again!"
"This is a partisan police force; they will not protect you. They are all murderers! They brought 110 mercenaries from Cote d'Ivoire. Let them come here and kill us! Kill the dead again!"
"Awezu!" "Awey!"
This government is not our government, we must not work with them. Those of who who recognize this government, you will bear the blood of the children that were killed that day."
The people eventually disband, moving out into the sandy yard.
The people eventually disband, moving out into the sandy yard.
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